The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains, from Facts Narrated by HimselfPeters, De Witt C. (De Witt Clinton)
History
The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains, from Facts Narrated by Himself
Peters, De Witt C. (De Witt Clinton)
Carson Kit, 1809-1868; Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.)
"'_Sept. 8_.--A calm, clear day, with a sunrise temperature of 41 deg..
In view of our present enterprise, a part of the equipment of the boat
had been made to consist of three air-tight bags, about three feet
long, and capable each of containing five gallons. These had been
filled with water the night before, and were now placed in the boat,
with our blankets and instruments, consisting of a sextant, telescope,
spy-glass, thermometer, and barometer.
"'In the course of the morning we discovered that two of the cylinders
leaked so much as to require one man constantly at the bellows, to
keep them sufficiently full of air to support the boat. Although we
had made a very early start, we loitered so much on the way--stopping
every now and then, and floating silently along, to get a shot at
a goose or a duck--that it was late in the day when we reached the
outlet. The river here divided into several branches, filled with
fluvials, and so very shallow that it was with difficulty we could get
the boat along, being obliged to get out and wade. We encamped on a
low point among rushes and young willows, where there was a quantity
of driftwood, which served for our fires. The evening was mild and
clear; we made a pleasant bed of the young willows; and geese and
ducks enough had been killed for an abundant supper at night, and for
breakfast next morning. The stillness of the night was enlivened by
millions of water-fowl.
"'_Sept. 9_.--The day was clear and calm; the thermometer at sunrise
at 49 deg.. As is usual with the trappers on the eve of any enterprise,
our people had made dreams, and theirs happened to be a bad one--one
which always preceded evil--and consequently they looked very gloomy
this morning; but we hurried through our breakfast, in order to make
an early start, and have all the day before us for our adventure. The
channel in a short distance became so shallow that our navigation
was at an end, being merely a sheet of soft mud, with a few inches of
water, and sometimes none at all, forming the low-water shore of the
lake. All this place was absolutely covered with flocks of screaming
plover. We took off our clothes, and, getting over-board, commenced
dragging the boat--making, by this operation, a very curious trail,
and a very disagreeable smell in stirring up the mud, as we sank above
the knee at every step. The water here was still fresh, with only an
insipid and disagreeable taste, probably derived from the bed of fetid
mud. After proceeding in this way about a mile, we came to a small
black ridge on the bottom, beyond which the water became suddenly
salt, beginning gradually to deepen, and the bottom was sandy and
firm. It was a remarkable division, separating the fresh water of
the rivers from the briny water of the lake, which was entirely
_saturated_ with common salt. Pushing our little vessel across the
narrow boundary, we sprang on board, and at length were afloat on the
waters of the unknown sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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